Every Little Boy's Dream

One of a few childhood memories I can clearly picture in my mind's eye is the classroom in Benjamin Franklin Elementary School where I spent the kindergarten school year of my life. In particular, I envision the wooden jungle gym near the middle of the room. There were many days were that structure served as the stage of a sort of 5-year-old boy fashion show. Perhaps even a pageant. That's right, I'm talking about...

UNDEROOS!

Yep, you heard me. Underoos!

Now don't get your proverbial panties in a bunch. I'm not suggesting my kindergarten teacher was so "progressive" as to allow half-dozen 5-year-old boys to prance around in the middle of class wearing nothing but their skivvies and smiles. (Yes, that was a bit of an "Auntie Mame" slam:)) In fact, I remember that Mrs. Moroni (more affectionately known as Mrs. Macaroni) had a pretty good handle on things. But let me clarify: during the indoor recess time, in true Clark Kent-esque form, many of us boys would peel off whatever top layer of shirt/sweater/sweatshirt we were wearing to reveal the true superhero that lay beneath.

For example, my Batman undershirt gave me the ability to cause large cartoon dialog balloons (such as "POW!" and "WHAP!") to appear when I struck down a villainous foe. Occasionally, depending on the various household laundry cycles represented in the classroom, there were multiple Batmans, Supermans, etc. protecting the class on a given day--watch out all you demented ill-named fiends plotting to take over the universe!

Through the years between kindergarten and today, I have many times dreamed of really being able to levitate objects with my mind, or to exercise physical strength beyond natural human limitations. And even outside of the context published by the likes of Marvel Comics, I have considered the soaring eagle, and longed to experience the freedom and perspective of his lofty ways.

But I am now arriving in a season where the truth of the matter is becoming clear to me.

As a parent, I see the same impossible superheroic longings and imaginations in my own son and daughters. Yet I also see their tremendous shortcomings in things that are not so superhuman. Things like telling the truth. And working hard. And exercising self-control. And being kind to each other. And being grateful.

And for my part, I have seen positive results when I train/coach/encourage/discipline them with particular skills, like how to play soccer. But, I have also seen very little effectiveness when I try to do the same for those character shortcomings. And it leaves me feeling so very powerless.

Come to think of it, maybe those things really are superhuman after all. Where are my Underoos now?

Good thing there really is a super-power to fight those villains: the Holy Spirit.

So as their parent, I see that what my kids need most is the Holy Spirit.

Me too.

"Thanks be to God for His indescribable gift!"

Just Two Things

I've wielded a number of complex thoughts and arguments that defend the existence and intervention of God in my day-to-day life, and in those situations I've been encountering where pain, disappointment, grief, death, loss, etc. seem to be having their way.

But those intellectual weapons don't seem to be having any noticeable effect.

So I'm lingering on a couple of simple thoughts today.

Psalm 62 says...
"One thing God has spoken,
two things have I heard:
that you, O God, are strong,
and that you, O Lord, are loving.
Surely you will reward each person
according to what he has done."

He is strong.

He is loving.

Take that Brokenness! Take that Fear, and Pain, and Hopelessness!

See if you can stand up to His love and strength, Death and Divorce! Love that went to the utmost extreme! Strength that only had to speak to form the very universe!

Just try it!

My heart is stirred by a noble theme...

A stirred-up heart. That would be refreshing.

No, amazing. That would be AMAZING!

Oh, how frustrating to merely endure the daily grind of life. And the hope that somehow my heart will be better equipped to face tomorrow's circumstances swirls unpredictably beyond my control, like the early autumn leaves the neighbor is blowing from his yard to mine.

How will I respond? The "right" answer is already in my cranium, but the actions and attitude don't resonate.

I don't just need the right answer, the right thought, the perfect advice. My heart needs to be stirred up!

My heart is stirred by a noble theme...

Psalm 45 is richly prophetic in its foretelling of a "most excellent" prince and his "all glorious" royal princess bride.

The Prince. Gracious in all He says, victorious, truthful, humble, righteous, just, anointed with the oil of joy.

The Bride. Enthralling in her beauty, courted by wealth, forsaking her past.

The Bride's past, her suitors only serve to magnify Him.

Stir up my heart! Drizzle the oil of Your joy on me!

What does He sound like?

An unexpected question left me wrestling with that question.

Last night while I was tucking daughter #2 into bed, she asked me how she would know if God was talking to her. She had prayed many times about many things, but had never heard Him answer. And she wasn't really sure she would know if He was "telling" her something.

So many have that same question, Christian and non-Christian alike. Just Google "does god talk" to see a plethora of attempts to analyze God's communication with man. While many writings take a heavily theological stance, the best one I found quotes some 7-12 year olds: How Does God Talk To You?

Although those deep, scholastic, logical presentations can be intellectually satisfying, they hardly address the angst I have known in those times when I've longed deeply to hear from Him. The problem is that that longing isn't intellectual; it's spiritual. My spirit needs to be able to communicate, since "God is spirit."

I've never heard Him myself, at least, not with my ears. But I've known Him to respond to my prayers, and to direct certain situations in my life.

And having an opportunity to convey that to my dear 9-year-old, who genuinely wanted to know, was a privilege I won't take for granted. In fact, I'm pretty sure God was speaking to me in that situation!

Thank you gracious Lord!

Family-Friendly

As I was driving to work yesterday morning, that phrase just struck me silly. Why are soooo many Christian radio stations, movies, etc. dubbed as "family-friendly?"

Well, there's certainly the obvious answer--they don't scare people away by saying "Jesus" (although "Jesus-friendly" should really be their aim, shouldn't it?).

But it seems to me there's also a more pragmatic explanation. And I, being a pragmatic kind of guy, will attempt to explore that...

Some Divinely-appointed friends recently asked about what standards we apply for movies we allow our kids to watch. Have you ever had to answer that question to like-minded friends whose children are playmates of yours? Talk about a touchy, carefully-worded discussion!

We didn't even have to explain some of the obvious violence, language, and sexual content metrics (all fairly clear to distinguish, even if you don't see eye-to-eye about what is "too" ______ for my kids). However, phrases like "potty talk" and "crude jokes" and "disrespectful" were required to further distinguish why some movies targeted at today's younger audience might not be suitable for ours. Now, defining what exactly qualifies as "potty talk" is no easy task. Heck, even deciding which jokes are "crude" is a tough one--there are some jokes that definitely are, and some that definitely aren't, but there's a huge gray area in the middle...

Nonetheless, I bear a God-given responsibility to make that determination for my children, and to model those standards for them.

Wait a minute! Did I just write that...yeah, that second part there?

After all, one of the most widely-accepted axioms of parenting is that not everything that might be acceptable for my mental and emotional consumption is acceptable for consumption by my children. So many of us parents live that out...it must be true!

But if a particular commerical aired during an NFL game makes me cringe because my 10-year-old son is sitting on the couch next to me, taking it all in, is it really okay for me to watch it too?

Here's another generalized example. I've noticed what I'll now dub as a "classic" phenomenon which occurs to many parents of young children: they start going to church. Think with me...how many young married couples have you known that were completely disinterested in church or anything spiritual...until they had children? Now, suddenly they're thinking about what kind of upbringing those impressionable youngsters will have. Surely, they don't want to be to blame if those kids grow up to be heathens! And even before they get to that point, they're purging their music and movie libraries (or, at least, boxing them up) and their language. And maybe they're even reevaluating their friends.

Okay, I know I don't have to keep emphasizing the double-standards that so many of us parents have--we probably all feel guilty about it already.

But let me ask another question on the positive side: do ours kids actually serve as a significant component of our consciences?

I could make a very long list of instances in which one of my children pointed out my less-than-savory behavior. Sometimes even unintentionally. Or of the times when my own words sounded not-so-wholesome coming from a much younger mouth.

Rather than living in fear of my children turning out like me, I'd better start living a more "family-friendly" life.